


Across the Veil

by DictatorCheese



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-03 17:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictatorCheese/pseuds/DictatorCheese
Summary: Falling through mysterious rift, a modern woman finds herself trapped in a alternate universe unlike anything she's ever known. Now she must struggle to survive, find a way back home and... save the world? All the while she works to keep her true identity a secret in order to protect the very fabric of time and space itself. No one ever said a hero's life was easy.





	1. A Door that Won't Close

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Though this is an OC piece, it is not a self-insert. It's intended to be a comedic fish out of water drama and a exploration in the meeting of the real world with the world of DA. As such, sore lore has been adapted, interpreted or changed in order to fit the narrative of the story, though the rest should remain as accurate to canon as possible.

Chains rattled every time she breathed. That was the only thought in Amy's head. There was no fear regarding the presence of chains, discomfort at the rattling or relief that—at the very least—she did breathe. There was nothing, save for that one simple and indifferent observation. She was not mentally prepared to deal with any of those reactions just yet. Her emotions had not caught up with her, leaving just the shock. Her eyes finally opened, though it almost seemed as though they hadn't. The change was not much given the darkness of the room. It was nearly impossible to see her hands directly in front of her face. That was not an exaggeration; she tried. It was then that her hand exploded into both pain and a bright green light. The sudden light was enough to blind her, but she could not register the pain in her eyes while the pain stabbing into her hand demanded to be felt. Just as quickly as it had flashed, the light died down again, but she could not look right away. She could barely even focus enough to realize that her hand was now illuminating the stone floor and dimly to the stone walls around her. There was a faint mark glowing on it, much like a tattoo.

It was the chains she focused on first when she finally did focus. Experimentally she pulled at them lightly, but they held as fast as she would have expected, nothing new to learn there. What she had not expected was the sound of metal coming from in front of her. It was a fairly quiet and smooth sound, but it was almost unmistakable as a blade being pulled from a sheath. In the dark she hadn't noticed anyone else in the room, but the with the now faint green glow from her hand, Amy could make out vague figures by what she assumed to be a doorway. Ones that she was guessing might be none too friendly given the very light metal glint she could see near the waist of one. Still, people were people—as terrible as they could be—and what she needed above all else right now was answers.

"Where a—." Of course answers were hard to come by when she couldn't even finish her question in her weak voice before the door burst loudly open. Silhouetted from the light through the door was the figure of a woman, one that appeared to be decked out in medieval style armor and with a sword very clearly hanging from her belt. The sight somehow wasn't as jarring as it should have been, likely because of how much the rest of the place had the same vibe to it; something Amy had only dimly registered herself. Nothing about the place held even the barest hint of modernity. In fact, rather than think the woman in front of her was odd, Amy found herself feeling like she was the one out of place. Eventually the woman strode over, appearing to circle around Amy, though with how she was tied up Amy couldn't always track her movements. Thus she jumped when suddenly a low voice appeared at her ear from behind.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." Not a promising opening, though Amy wasn't exactly sure what she'd been expecting. In the kind of environment she'd found herself in, it was impossible to expect warmth or comfort from such an exchange. Clearly she was a prisoner, that much had already been obvious, all she couldn't figure out was why. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone is dead… except for you." There was something very familiar in the woman's tone, a common trait that Amy had heard time and time again: accusation. It was painfully clear what the implications of the words were. If Amy had learned anything in her time living, it had been to never give accusers even more ammunition to attack you in such situations. Thus, Amy was silent.

"Explain this," the woman continued, reaching down roughly to grab Amy's left hand where the mark flared up again in another painful flash of bright green light. Cringing and gasping, it took a long moment before Amy was able to say anything at all. Patience didn't seem to be a very strong trait in her accuser either which had Amy focused on her and not even noticing that another woman—a much quieter redhead—had also entered and was watching her response.

"I can't," Amy cried out when it seemed like the question was going to be repeated. "I-I don't… I don't know what it is. I don't know what's going on." It was true both about the mark on her hand and the entire rest of the situation she'd somehow landed herself in.

"What do you remember?" piped up the other woman, Amy's head whipping around as she finally realized the woman was even there.

"I remember running, trying to escape and… a woman." The memories were scattered and confused at best.

"You are lying!" the first woman barked out, taking a threatening step forward with one hand going to her sword almost instinctively. Amy wouldn't have been surprised to discover that she really did know how to use it. Almost immediately the other woman—with a hand pushing into the warrior's shoulder—stopped her.

"We need her, Cassandra." For her part, Amy was surprised to see how quickly Cassandra seemed to back off from her threatening stance in response to the words, if reluctantly. It was too much to process all at once and by the time she'd even really caught up with everything that had happened thus far, she was being pulled to a stand by Cassandra who then led her out of what quickly Amy realized was an actual dungeon. Part of her had assumed this whole time that it was all some kind of strange play pretend or LARP event that she'd stumbled into without realizing it, but as they exited the dungeon and stepped out into the rest of the building and later the town, not one hint of anything modern appeared. They were either a bit too good at covering it up, or this was real.

It was hard for her to even assume that this was some kind of dream, as Amy doubted even with all her creativity, she would have come up with half the things that Cassandra was telling her. Conclaves, Divines… a green hole in the sky, no, none of it was something she would have come up with. Mostly Amy was doing her best to keep up with the words and trying to make mental notes of things she didn't understand. Given that she was still in chains and dealing with someone who seemed a little too eager to kill her before, Amy doubted that asking a lot of questions would go over well. Even once the chains had been removed, Amy found herself hesitating on asking much of anything. Especially not questions when it seemed like she ought to have already known the answers. Much like being thrown into a play without ever seeing your lines, she could only fumble her way through understanding concepts she'd never once heard before. There was only one part of everything Cassandra said that Amy felt like it was incredibly important to focus on for the moment anyway.

"Every time the Breach expands, your mark grows. And it's killing you." Without the burning pain that spread from her hand to the rest of her body, Amy might have thought that was an exaggeration, but it really felt like death. Whatever it was on her hand, Amy could believe that it would be the death of her. She also believed that she'd do anything she had to in order to see that it wouldn't be.

"What do I need to do?" Amy was a little surprised how much hope the words brought to Cassandra's face. She supposed she might have not been listening as closely as she should have been. Though Amy heard all the words, she hadn't listened to the tone which was where she would have understood that even if the mark was only killing Amy, the rest of them needed her to find a solution just as much. They were all in danger, though Amy could not have fully understood. No matter how many times Cassandra spoke about demons as they moved to the forward camp, the concept was a mystery—an abstract—for Amy. It had never occurred to her that they might be physical demons… at least not until they heard the sounds of battle and Cassandra raced forward to jump into the fray of people and what Amy could have only described as monsters.

Black and terrifying were perhaps the first words that might have come to mind, but both fell far short of what the creatures were and misconstrued them incredibly. Looking at them, they didn't so much look black as they looked like creatures who were constructed from a complete void of color itself. Black in it's own way could be comforting at times; these things never could be. They really did take her breath away, causing her body to all but lock up at the sight. This did not bode well for her, especially as one more seemed to be crawling its way out of the strange green light hovering above them. While everyone else was focused on fighting the monstrosities, the thing clawed out first one demonic hand and then another before it pulled itself completely free of the strange green tear and fell to the ground. It was not stopped for more than a second by the long fall before it looked around and—to her immeasurable horror—locked its targets on her. She wasn't sure how the thing saw her at all as when it looked at her, Amy could clearly see that rather than eyes, it felt like looking into the void. Even the way it moved was disconcerting as it seemed to float along the ground in short bursts of speed, making Amy scream as it approached.

At first she'd tried to back away, but Amy had not made it more than a couple of steps before her foot caught on something and she was falling backwards. Somehow the situation was made even more horrible by the fact that the thing she'd been caught on was the leg of a dead soldier, one with his body torn up in the most horrific way. That would be her fate too, Amy was sure. Forget the Breach killing her, she wouldn't live that long. Flight was no longer an option for her as the creature scooted closer and so her hands dug into the body beneath her as she prepared herself. At least they did until she felt a stinging pain in her right hand and looked down at it to find that she'd dropped the palm onto a dagger resting at the man's side. Without a single thought, Amy moved her hand down to grip the blade at the handle. It was only a few inches long and definitely not something one would consider deadly against such a terrifying monster—particularly in her hands—but it was something. When the creature had reached her, she lashed the blade out, eyes closing and another scream pulled itself from her lips.

With a horrifying cry of agony, the thing reared back from her and she watched in both shock and amazement as the demon dematerialized in front of her, the pieces of it seeming to be drawn back through the small tear in the sky above them. Dumbfounded, Amy looked down at the dagger in her hand, still outstretched, but she didn't feel like she'd ever felt it touch the creature. It certainly had not been as difficult as she would have thought. Looking from the dagger back up again, she noticed a short man reloading a crossbow. He shot her a grin and a wink before turning back to the last demon left around them. So… it hadn't been her who killed it then? In all honesty, Amy wasn't sure if she was disappointed or comforted by that fact. Slowly she stood again, the dagger still held firmly in her right hand, without Amy even realizing it.

"Quickly," came a cry as her left hand was grabbed, though Amy didn't have the presence of mind to do anything about it other than relent as it was raised up to point her palm at the sky. "Before more come through." Amy had no clue what the man holding her hand thought might happen if she just pointed at the sky. Did he think she'd be able to close it through wishing alone? For some reason Amy found herself envisioning what that might look like and… suddenly something was happening. It wasn't painful as had happened every other time her mark had glowed, but instead it just… tingled. Amy couldn't have explained it any other way. It felt like her whole body was supercharged with energy which then exploded out as the tear in the sky slammed shut. Once it was done, she all but tore her hand from the man's grasp in shock, though he didn't look as though he minded.

"What…?" Though she'd been conscious for nearly two hours, it seemed as though Amy was no closer to forming full and coherent sentences than she had been when she'd woken up in chains and accused of crimes she still didn't understand. It seemed like every time she was even close to accepting this world and coming to terms with the parts of it that were completely foreign to her, something else happened to shake everything she even thought she knew.

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky, also placed that mark upon your hand," the man—who had some of the strangest ears Amy had ever seen, she noted to herself—said, causing Amy to look between him and her hand a few times as she tried to keep up with what he was telling her. He had more to say, but only one word of it all really stood out to Amy and she found herself repeating it without thinking about her situation.

"Magic?" Though it was a question for confirmation, something about Amy's tone belied her exhaustion at everything that had come up and something akin to amusement. She supposed it was that of course there would be magic here, she couldn't believe that she hadn't seen that coming. The concept of magic in this world meant that nothing had to make sense or follow the same laws as her own world, didn't it? After all, there were many interpretations of magic, but from what she had seen, it would take some getting used to.

"Yes, magic," the man repeated, though seeming a bit less pleasant than he had been before. Something about her tone and expression seemed to have him pulling back. He'd seemed open and curious before, but suddenly he was much more guarded. "Nothing else could have had the power to open the Breach." At the second mention, Amy looked up to the sky, realizing just how much closer to it they were. She shifted her gaze back to him, but he seemed to be eying her suspiciously.

"Whatever caused it, I'm just happy to hear that we can close these things. And here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever," intoned a voice from behind her, and Amy turned to see the short man who'd saved her before. Perhaps it was from that or from his tone, but something about him gave her a lighter impression and she felt as though she could almost smile while looking at him. "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." His introduction actually did bring a smile from her.

"Amy Spivey… mostly just unwelcome tagalong," she responded back to him, with a chuckle. To her credit, Amy did turn to make sure that it didn't appear that she was only introducing herself to Varric and let the others know she wanted to be friendly—or at least civil—with the two of them as well, as much as that seemed difficult. Cassandra was giving her a strongly appraising look and the other man appeared still to be on his guard.

"I am Solas, if there are to be introductions." He was gracious enough for that and Amy relented to give him a bit of a smile as well and politely say that it was good to meet him, whether or not she was fully sure it was. Nothing against Solas, but she would have much rather been home in bed than to have met any of them. No dream would have lasted this long or have been this painful. Had it been a dream, she would have woken up when the first scream had left her lips. It was long since past the time that she would have woken up and this world seemed no closer to leaving.

"So you both work with… Cassandra?" Amy asked, though turning back to focus more on Varric. A laugh came from both men and a scoff from Cassandra. Amy wanted to cringe as she realized her question might have been an obvious one which wasn't making her seem any more normal, but she gave a weak smile as she tried to push passed it.

"Was that a serious question?" Solas asked, though from the corner of her eye he didn't seem quite as standoffish as he had after she'd questioned magic. That was a positive, right?

"Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you," Varric informed her, and between a back and forth with Cassandra, Amy realized that their explanation left her no closer to figuring out what was really going on here and rather left her with more questions. Solas's explanation that he was an apostate was no less confusing itself and thus Amy nodded and chose to let things lie. Now was not the time to try and really dig deep into history and culture that she had no starting basis for, especially not with a time crunch to save her life. First she'd worry about not immediately dying, then she'd get the lay of the land.

Solas and Varric joined them as they continued through the valley—Amy staying very pointedly in the back whenever demons appeared, though she still had not let go of the dagger she held. The mark on her hand seemed to be growing larger faster than ever and the four of them were doing their best to hurry. It seemed like another hour before they finally reached another of what were apparently being called rifts. As before she'd hung back and did more running from demons than fighting, but at least once they'd all been killed she was able to stretch her hand up to the rift as Solas had showed her before and cleared her mind to think of nothing but envisioning the rift closing. Once again, it did. If she was being honest with herself, Amy was feeling pretty high and mighty about herself after that, as they'd jogged up to what she could only assume was the command center for the attack they were waging on the demons. That feeling did not last long.

"She should be taken to Val Royeaux to be tried by whoever becomes Divine," a man in a robe demanded, bringing Amy's attention back to the argument that had only half her attention. At this point she'd nearly forgotten that she was in many respects still a prisoner and still could face the very real options of jail or—as she was starting to realize was a strong possibility—even execution. There was some relief in the fact that her three companions and Leliana—the redhead from before—seemed to be sticking up for her. It was not enough for her to feel entirely comfortable, but it was something. At this point, something was better than nothing.

"Well, which do you think we should take?" Cassandra asked and it took Amy a moment to realize that the question was being asked of her. Amy blinked at Cassandra for a moment.

"What?" she answered instinctually, though after playing back the conversation in her head, she realized that they were asking which of the two paths they should fight through. The idea that they expected Amy to make a military decision was perhaps the strangest thing to happen today. "You're asking me?" Cassandra was none too thrilled with the question and reaffirmed that yes, they wanted her to be the tie breaker. Amy shook her head. "You realize I have no experience in… military planning, right? Are you sure you want me to pick?" After a quick back and forth, it became clear that Amy likely wouldn't give an answer other than randomly picking between the two choices and the choice was thankfully taken away from her again. Amy had no issue with simply following the orders given to her. That was far easier than being expected to weigh the balance of so many lives in her hand and decide which was the better strategy. Ultimately it was decided that—given Amy's apparent lack of combat potential at the moment—the safer route was for the best.

Amy couldn't argue with that decision, especially as they found themselves easily reaching the crater and for the first time Amy realized that when they talked about the explosion that formed the Breach, they meant an actual real explosion. That much was quickly clear given the charred ground, the ruins of a grand building and the stench of burning flesh that filled the air. It made her gag, but she had no chance to do much other than that as she was being hurried down to the crater itself. She couldn't focus on anything else anyway as Amy knew that this was her one real shot at freedom. If she could close the rift here, then maybe they'd believe that she hadn't had anything to do with all of this. Maybe then they'd let her go. It was only a guess, but it was all she had at the moment and so Amy held onto it, feeling the pressure building the closer they got to it and even as she watched the soldiers battling the horde of demons that had been spawned. If she failed, then what? Perhaps the best case scenario would be that it killed her in the process, since she couldn't imagine that the people here would look too favorably on her should she not be able to close this rift. They were already talking imprisoning her or even execution, so this was her one shot to show that she was on their side.

Slowly, and with a deep breath, Amy reached out a hand as she had done twice before and stretched it up to the sky once the demons had all been sent back. As before the light shown from her hand and stretched to the rift… but something was different. Amy could tell that from the moment she'd directed her hand at it: something wasn't right. Rather than the strange but not unpleasant tingles she was used to feeling, her body was filled with a burst of pain. Where the other rifts had closed much with the ease of slamming a door, this one felt more like she was slamming that door but had gotten herself trapped in the middle of it. Not only would it not close, but each attempt only hurt her more for having tried. And yet… she did try. Not once, not twice, but as many times as she could. This was her one shot. She tried again. This was the only thing separating her from death by noose or by blade. She tried again. They wouldn't believe in her unless she got this to close. She tried again.

Then her body spasmed without her permission and black spots appeared before her eyes. Even still, she tried. Quickly Amy knew that she was losing the battle with consciousness, but she found that she refused to let that happen without at least first getting something done. She thrust her hand out again with more force, pain still lancing through her body, but finally she could feel something new happening. As with the other rifts, there was a kind of explosion, but rather than leaving her feeling normal or even a little charged at the end, Amy found all the strength had gone out of all of her limbs and she collapsed to the ground, completely numb to all feelings. Her consciousness was still only barely holding on, but she tried to fight the coming blackness. Voices seemed to float all around her.

"Did she…."

"What happened?"

"The demons are gone."

"Is that enough?"

"Seeker… it's still there." That voice had Amy struggling to open her eyes again as she looked up to see the rift still above her, almost taunting her in it's own way. She had failed.

"Sorry," Amy mumbled, quietly and to herself, though she wasn't sure why she was apologizing. Was it to herself for having not been strong enough and having doomed herself to a terrible fate? Or was it for the rest whom she'd also doomed to a horrible fate with her weakness. Amy didn't know, but the word pulled itself from her lips regardless as her eyelids drifted shut, and for a long time she knew nothing more.


	2. You Know Nothing

Waking up was a struggle. More than anything Amy wished she could just roll over again and disappear into the void. She was still too out of it to remember much—if any—of what had happened and instead she could only focus on how much everything hurt. High pain tolerance wasn't something that Amy could boast and without the adrenaline and fear flooding her mind to block out any other feelings, the pain overwhelmed her. Hearing someone come into the room, Amy had tried to push herself upright, but her arms gave way almost immediately. She doubted very much that her legs would support her any better. Despite knowing that she should force herself awake, Amy instead allowed herself to roll over and simply succumb to the pain.

It was sometime later that she woke again. The pain had lessened, but it was still more than enough to keep her from attempting to push herself up again or even think about leaving the relative comfort of her bed. Not that she was particularly comfortable, but the alternative was getting dressed and walking around, and she could feel enough blankets on her to guess that the world outside was not nearly as comfortable as what she'd found here. As she came to more, she felt a hand press over her forehead for a moment—none too gently—before it pulled back, followed by a scoff.

"She's fine," a gruff male voice grumbled a bit, next to her, though Amy had not opened her eyes to see who it was talking. Part of her wasn't sure she wanted to signal that she was even awake, feeling unsure about her current situation. Vague memories had started to come back to her, and none of them good.

"Clearly she is not." The familiar, accented voice filled Amy's ears and it brought much more clarity to the memories she'd been struggling to recall, and she almost wished it hadn't. There were too many questions still burning at her mind, and she was still afraid of how Cassandra would react to her, especially if she truly hadn't managed to close the rift.

"There's nothing wrong with her that I can see," the gruff voice argued back. The fact that he was bold enough to argue with Cassandra was surprising enough in itself. "She doesn't have any injuries and if I give her anything more for pain she'll be no good to you for days." Cassandra's huff was recognizable to Amy already. As much as she didn't want to open her eyes to face two apparently crabby people, lying here would likely only prolong the inevitable and might even put her captors into an even worse mood. Eventually she let out a deep breath and opened her eyes, finding Cassandra looking right back at her.

"You're awake," Cassandra's tone sounded mildly surprised, but she was businesslike and blunt as usual, even when she asked how Amy was feeling. "Are you well? We must discuss our next steps." Part of Amy wondered if she even had the option to decline and say that she was too ill to move. Instead she nodded a bit as she forced herself to sit up stiffly. Glancing around, Amy did see the man who had been speaking and offered him a slight smile, but he did little more than grunt dismissively in return, packing up various bottles and mixtures. Amy decided it was better not to ask. Instead she dressed and followed after Cassandra.

"You've been out for nearly four days now. We feared that you would not waken at all," Cassandra told her as they made their way through the small town—Amy doing her best to ignore the whispers of curious onlookers—towards the large building at the center. It looked like a church and she decided that her first guess was right as they entered the building, passing through a large open room that looked exactly like the sort of place to hold a large religious gathering. Rather than stop to admire the beautiful design, however, Amy had to focus on keeping step with the power-walking seeker who seemed to be intent on a smaller room in the back of the church. Inside she found a large round table around which there were already three people, only one of which Amy recognized.

"Where is Chancellor Roderick?" Cassandra asked first thing as the heavy door shut behind them. Leliana offered a slight shrug, and the other two—a man and a woman—seemed no more concerned.

"The Chancellor got a little too excited, so we respectfully asked him to leave," replied the woman that Amy hadn't met before. There was a note of humor to her tone and Leliana seemed to be repressing a slight smirk herself. Amy decided she didn't particularly want to know what happened to the Chancellor. At least not at the moment. There were too many things to worry about. Including the introductions that quickly followed for the army commander Cullen and the Ambassador Josephine, as well as an explanation of the Inquisition they all wanted to form. Everything moved so fast that Amy wasn't able to do much other than nod as she listened, still working on keeping up with everything and using whatever context clues she could to understand the world she'd been thrown into.

"Some are calling you the Herald of Andraste," Cullen finally said, directly addressing Amy for the first time in the conversation. She hadn't really been asked for much feedback, which suited her just fine, but now they all were looking at her. "That's quite the title. How do you feel about that?" Questions like that were the ones that terrified Amy the most if she was being honest. Asking her to decide how she felt about things she didn't understand? Coming up with an answer felt like a minefield. Who even was Andraste anyway?

"That's… I don't think I've wrapped my head around any of this yet," she answered vaguely, but honestly. Vague but honest was probably going to be the nature of most of her responses until she managed to discover a way back home, Amy decided. Perhaps she could find someone to help her in figuring out how to get back, but was she really so sure that she wanted more people to know? Besides, even more worryingly, how could she know that they'd even help her to get back home even if she did tell them. Everything they'd said seemed to imply that they needed the mark on her hand—whatever it was—pretty desperately. Maybe enough to keep her prisoner. She smiled weakly, hoping she wasn't showing her thoughts on her face.

"Regardless, the Chantry will bring out every weapon it has at its disposal to try and bury you with. We need to know what they will find. So we can be ready," Leliana declared. At first Amy wasn't entirely sure what Leilana had meant, but after a moment of silence she noted that the four of them were all looking at her expectantly. She'd gotten a bit too used to only listening and avoiding replying that she found herself stumped when she wasn't given another option.

"You need to know what?"

"Everything. About you. Where you come from, your family, anything they can use against us," the redhead clarified, causing a sinking feeling to settle into the pit of Amy's stomach. This was everything she'd been trying to avoid.

"The more we know, the easier it will be for us to anticipate the rumors and maybe even get ahead of them." Amy supposed that—despite trying to hide them—her feelings were clear on her face which was why Josephine had decided that she ought to pitch in and further clarify why they needed to know about Amy's past. It all made sense if she really thought about it, but that didn't mean Amy could tell them.

"If your people can't find out anything, wouldn't that mean the Chantry won't either?" Amy tried to reason, sounding slightly hopeful.

"But it won't stop them from making up stories in place of real ones." This time it was Cullen who spoke, leaving Amy realizing that everyone in the room had agreed on this point and she was on her own.

"Having tales from you to counteract them will lend more credibility to our situation as well," Josephine agreed. There was a long pause. Of course they all gave good points, but there was nothing that Amy could give them. And so, she told them as much.

"I can't give you that."

"You can't? What do you mean you can't?!" Cassandra was outraged, making Amy almost cringe. Maybe she actually did considering the slightly apologetic look that she got from Josephine.

"I…" What could she say? Explaining to them all that she came from another world was never going to go over well or make sense to anyone. In fact, it likely would harm the entire operation—and her own situation—much more than help them. Besides, that was only if they believed her at all, and she had only just been promoted from a prisoner very nearly facing execution. It seemed unlikely that she had enough trust to give them the truth yet. "I don't remember. Everything since… since the explosion and falling out of the rift, it's all gone."

Maybe that was a poor excuse, but it worked. Not at first, no, Amy could tell that there was some skepticism—particularly from Cassandra—but none of them could argue that they knew she did remember. "Sorry," Amy said, hoping that sounding apologetic—and she actually was to some degree—would make them more likely to believe her. In the end, she got a sigh from Cassandra that Amy took as a sign that they would believe her lie. After all, Amy had agreed to help the Inquisition so it seemed she was no longer a prisoner. At least not the way she had before. She couldn't travel wherever she wanted, but they wouldn't be putting her in chains and she had enough freedom to explore and come up with a plan to get home. That would have to be enough.

"Either way," Leliana said at last, returning to their next order of business when it became clear they would get nothing from Amy. It was possible they all assumed that they'd be able to dig up whatever Amy didn't want to tell them with their spies, but Amy found it hard to believe they'd figure it out. "The Chantry has disavowed the Inquisition."

"And you, specifically," Josephine added, addressed to Amy who found herself running a nervous hand through her hair.

"Just like that?" From how much they talked about it, Amy had at least gathered that the Chantry was powerful and not something she particularly wanted to be on the bad side of… though apparently she already was.

"It seems so," Cullen responded with a nod.

"There is, however, one that would speak with you," Leliana said. "Mother Giselle is at the Crossroads assisting the refugees there, and has asked that you meet with her."

"The Hinterlands isn't too far of a journey, and if it means some Chantry support? I'd recommend it," Cullen mused, and once again all eyes were on Amy as though waiting for her to make some kind of decision. Her mouth dried and she glanced over to her side to look at Cassandra for a long moment. Long enough, it seemed, for Cassandra to take the hint that Amy wasn't likely going to choose and to make that decision for her.

"We will leave immediately."

It wasn't a long journey to the Hinterlands, but to Amy it still felt almost impossibly slow. Maybe she was a little too used to the idea of being able to hop into a car or plane to get wherever she wanted in the world quickly and relatively hassle free. They didn't have cars here… they had carts, and barely enough horses between them all. For long portions she and her companions walked alongside rather than riding in them, something Amy was none too pleased about. She was drenched in sweat and panting after the few hours it took them, though not one of her companions seemed more than a little winded. It was pathetic. For just a moment she'd thought that being looked upon as a potential savior might have been an ego boost, but somehow now she felt as if she was only losing confidence rather than gaining it.

The camp itself was nothing spectacular, and Amy realized that any rest she'd been looking forward to would be difficult to manage in the rough tents and uneven ground. At least the temperature seemed to have improved somewhat, but not enough that she didn't still cling to the jacket she'd been given, her focus on the tents and the furs she could see within them. As it happened, a rest wasn't in her future. While the rest of their convoy had dispersed to set up things around the camp or to rest, Amy was quickly approached by Cassandra.

"Come, we must make it to the Crossroads as soon as possible." The words dashed any hopes that Amy had of being able to at the very least catch her breath before committing to travelling again. Her thoughts must have been obvious on her face.

"Oh, come now Cassandra, give the girl a break," Varric said, coming to Amy's rescue in the most wonderful way. A surge of affection for the man filled her, though she was too scared to speak up and agree with how severe Cassandra looked.

"We don't have time," Cassandra argued, shaking her head and not sounding like she was willing to back down from her position. "We need to help those people."

"Look at her, Cassandra," Varric said, gesturing over to Amy, and sounding a lot more serious than he normally did. "Does she look like she's going to be able to help anyone like that? Since she's been here, she's almost died twice… let's not make it three times, alright?" Finally Cassandra turned back to look at Amy, much more appraising, before letting out an annoyed grunt.

"Fine. But we must leave soon." With that, Cassandra stormed away, leaving Amy to thankfully sink to the ground next to the campfire, her legs giving way now that she had permission. With a smile, Varric disappeared before coming back with a bowl of what appeared to be some kind of stew for her. They sat and chatted for nearly an hour if Amy had to guess. All the while Varric spun her wild tales, ones that Amy ate up just as readily as the stew, not knowing what to believe and what was fabrication, so she simply believed it all. Cassandra's interruption again—this time with Solas—was far too soon in Amy's opinion, but she knew better than to think that she would get out of going again. Even Varric seemed all too ready to get up and go, making Amy understand that if it hadn't been for her, they wouldn't have stopped at all. Glancing up to the sky, Amy guessed that it was about noon, but she had no clue just how long the hike to the Crossroads would be. She supposed she was about to find out.

"So… you're a dwarf?" Amy asked uncertainty as they hiked. It seemed to awkward to make the trek in complete silence other than the occasional heart pounding moments of terror where one or more of her companions leapt forward to protect them from various manners of beasts. It was all too surreal to her at the moment and Amy didn't know if she would ever be able to take it all in. Varric seemed the least intimidating.

"What gave it away?" he responded sarcastically, though not meanly. Amy couldn't say that it was all that unexpected of a reply, even if it did not help her much.

"A real dwarf? I mean… with the tunnels and mines and not just a…" Amy had no way to phrase her question delicately, but it had been spinning around her head since she'd arrived in whatever world this was. "Not just a… short person?" The party stopped as she finished her question, Solas looking at her with confusion—though that had not changed from the start—and Cassandra looking actually taken aback. Even Varric seemed to be thrown for what to say. Amy's face quickly turned a deep shade of red. There were plenty of holes around. She wondered if anyone would stop her if she jumped into one. At the moment, she thought not. Varric recovered quickest.

"What kind of dwarves do you have back home?" he asked jokingly, shaking his head at her. Amy was just happy to see she hadn't offended him. With one hand awkwardly scratching the back of her head, she turned away and started down the road again, the others following at her heels. All she'd wanted to do was to break up the silence a little more, but maybe she should have spent a little more time coming up with how.

"None like you," she answered, managing to turn and give him a bit of a smile, though her face was still flushed. Varric laughed heartily.

"Not surprising. There isn't another dwarf like me in all of Orzammar. I'm one of a kind," he declared proudly.

"Orzammar?" The question slipped out before Amy could stop herself. There was another moment of silent shock that left Amy mocking her ignorance. Rationally she recognized that the ignorance was not really her fault as she was new to this world, but it marked her as someone different. As someone that didn't belong. She'd had enough of that to last a lifetime, she didn't want any more.

"I have a book you should read," Varric suggested at last, out of pity, Amy was sure. Though not sure how much time she would really have for reading Amy couldn't say the offer was unwelcome. The more she knew about the world she was in the safer she would be, right? She grinned at him. Whatever else she could say about the people she'd met here, Amy didn't know if she'd ever met anyone better able to relieve tension in an atmosphere as quickly or effectively. Cassandra, it seemed, did not share that talent.

"I thought you did not remember," she cut in from behind, making Amy flinch a little. How was she supposed to explain what she remembered without them declaring her mad? While they had already seen a great deal of things beyond what Amy would have called the natural order, there was no easy way to explain who she was. And the questions she would get about her world were not ones she particularly wanted to answer. Everything about this place made her uneasy. Everything but Varric, of course, dwarf or no.

"Pieces," she said at last, searching for a way to justify herself. "Just pieces." The Seeker did not seem particularly satisfied by this response, Amy noted from the corner of her eye, but she hoped they could leave it alone. She had long since reversed her wish to have conversation on this journey.

"And elves?" Solas's voice surprised her. She actually turned her gaze to look at him, causing herself to trip a little on the uneven ground. Solas was a mystery to her. Amy could not tell if the mage liked her or not, but his eyes never left her. They were neither especially hostile or friendly; they were curious and they were searching. Though it was impossible, Amy wondered if Solas knew more than he was actually letting on about what had happened and where she was from. It was a comforting enough thought to know if he had figured that all out, he would not look quite as frustrated as he did. Amy turned her attention towards the path before replying.

"None," she said, with a quick shake of her head. Varric gave out a low, surprised whistle.

"Make that two books," he corrected as the party found themselves rounding the bend towards the Crossroads. "Maker knows you need it." Cassandra let out a small huff, but did not argue Varric's words. There was nothing to argue. Amy did need it.

But Amy was not given a chance to think any more on that as they approached a hostile group of Templars. Cassandra had already charged into the fray while Varric and Solas had launched off a shot each. Even with the magical barrier she could feel go up around her, Amy was not quite so enthusiastic. The closer she got to the battle, the more her instincts told her it was better to flee than to fight. Even should she conquer that fear, there was the simple moral dilemma about killing. One that her companions did not seem to share. It was unnerving to watch. Not Cassandra, perhaps, but both Solas and Varric had seemed to her to be level-headed and—if nothing else—good people (or whatever they were). To see them easily take the lives of other people was uncomfortable at best.

Being lost in thought on a battle field was not an intelligent idea, Amy quickly realized as a Templar lunged for her. The world seemed to slow as he did so, but her mind moved no faster. It was only by the grace of instinct that she moved at all and the blade cut into her cheek instead of slicing a fatal blow at her neck. Her hand reached up instantly to cover the wound, feeling the blood pouring out from it. Thought of moral considerations were gone. In fact, all thoughts were gone. Nothing was left but the pounding in her ears and the pain in her cheek. She pulled her hand from her cheek and lashed a blade out without looking, feeling blood splatter on her arm. Her mind was too unfocused to say whether it was his or her own. Against the skilled Templar, Amy knew that she had no chance, but the sound of her own heartbeat filled her ears and drowned out any other thought. She struck again, a blow that was easily parried and the sword came at her again. Squealing, she ducked, dropping her knives in the process. There was not time to pick them both up and Amy never thought to stand. Instead she merely grabbed one with both hands and plunged it into the Templar's leg. With a howl he hopped back giving Amy room to stand and breathe. She picked the other dagger up and held it loosely at her side. Even after that wound, she was fully aware that there was just one way for this conflict to end. Her grip on the dagger tightened.

A ball of fire came suddenly into her line of vision, engulfing the Templar. Amy blinked. She blinked again. She could feel the warmth, but thankfully was not close enough to actually be burned as she lacked the willpower to move. She was worn out—more mentally and emotionally than physically, though that was a factor as well—and covered in blood. Her mind was still flooded with adrenaline focused on the slowly extinguishing fireball in front of her. She did not hear the approaching footsteps and greeted the light touch on her cheek with a jump and a shaking dagger held to the person's throat. Solas gave no sign of being intimidated. She hadn't really wanted to intimidate him, but she couldn't help registering that fact with a little annoyance. She had just stabbed someone in the leg, shouldn't that cause him to falter at least a little. Granted, she had seen him light someone on fire so perhaps she was not the dangerous one here.

And that's when it hit her that she had just stabbed someone. In all her life Amy hadn't held a knife for any other reason than the express purpose of chopping vegetables or cutting up her steak. Sometimes—should she find herself in a foul mood—she would do those acts with extreme prejudice, but never in all her life could she have remembered actively hurting someone or even truly wishing them harm. Maybe there had been the occasional angry mutter in the back of her mind and a few macabre fantasies, but this was no fantasy. She had not even known that man.

"Better?" Solas's voice pulled Amy out of her reverie. Better? Was what better? Had he been listening to her internal crisis, because Amy didn't believe that had been solved just yet. It was only when she turned her head to look at him that she noticed his hand had been on her cheek. There was no pain. She lifted a hand to her face, running a thumb over where the cut had been. There was nothing, not even a scar as far as she could tell.

"You can do that?" she asked, her thumb still brushing her cheek with disbelief. Solas smiled. It was that same strange little smile he had worn after she'd closed the first rift with his help. It had not been long after that that his expression had changed to one of permanent confusion and something akin to frustration. He seemed amused by her awe.

"I am, after all, a mage," he replied. Amy was left blinking at him before nodding and looking down to pick up the other dagger from the rapidly cooling ashes. It seemed—at least to her untrained eye—to be intact.

"Right," she commented, straightening up and putting the daggers back into their sheathes at her sides. "Magic." The word came out with a small and slightly bemused laugh and tone of her voice was enough to whip the smile right off his face again. She could not understand why exactly. Perhaps she had offended him somehow? Hopefully not enough that she would be the next human torch. She really doubted that—even in a world like this—she'd end up more like Johnny Storm and less like fried chicken. Chuckling to herself, she didn't notice that Solas seemed to grow more frustrated. Instead she saw Cassandra marching up to her and the sight was quick to drop the smile from her face. Amy may have even gulped at the sight, but she would have been quick to deny that fact.

Cassandra reached them and, though she'd marched over seemingly with a clear purpose, she seemed to wait to say what she wanted to, looking Amy up and down with apprising eyes. "I will talk to Cullen about training," she stated. Amy noted that there was no opening in the wording for her to reject the idea even if she'd wished to. And, for a moment, she did wish to. Only the memory of her near scrape with the Templar kept her from voicing that comment. While she had no wish in learning to be a better killer, she did have a vested interest in not dying. In this world, it seemed fighting was the only way to assure that. With a sigh, she nodded, though Cassandra didn't ask for her consent. Her apprising eyes were still looking at her. As were Solas's. Amy found Varric standing away from their little group and pleaded with silent eye contact for him to save her. She got a shrug in response.

"And clean off your daggers," Cassandra barked, drawing Amy's attention back. Her daggers? Slowly—gingerly even—she slid the weapons out of their sheathes, noticing the drops of blood on the right one. The left was clean as it had been unused. What was she supposed to wipe it off with? Amy had not planned on doing any fighting so she hadn't thought to bring along a cloth. She was glancing around herself, utterly lost, when the sound of tearing fabric caught her attention. In a swift movement, Cassandra had torn a clean part of a dead mage's robe (Amy had only just realized how many dead bodies there were around, especially considering she herself had only taken on one). The tattered robe piece was handed to Amy without ceremony. After a momentary pause, Amy slowly started wiping off her blade, not really thinking about what she was doing. Cassandra observed her for a moment before turning heel and moving to get a report from some of the other soldiers in the area. Amy really thought she was alone as she absent-mindedly continued wiping the blade.

"I should have just stayed home," she mumbled to herself. She never noticed that Solas was still standing by her, nor did she see the strange look he leveled at her, but then again he often gave her the same kind of look so she might not have been too surprised. Slowly, Amy realized she'd finished cleaning the blade—to the best of her ability—and she gently returned it back to its sheath, very much hoping she wouldn't have to pull it out from there again. "Guess it's too late for that now. It is what it is." With that, Amy sighed and pushed herself to take a deep breath before she began to stride over to Cassandra. It wasn't like she had too many options anymore. She'd do what they needed her to do… at least until she could find a way out of this nightmare and back home. Amy had never been the kind of person who could do grand things, and she knew they'd be better off finding someone else to help them save the world.


End file.
